Dad, tomorrow is Fathers Day. I guess you knew that, though you might not; I forgot it until yesterday when someone reminded me.
Though late in life, I still remember the best thing I learned, or had reiterated: in taking college course here a couple of years ago, the English teacher told the class to just write a letter, because that was the most important thing that a parent could receive. I believe that to be true, and that is what I am doing now.
I think as Fathers we do want to know what our kids think, and I guess we want to know what they think about us, though there is not much we can do about their thoughts now, this late in life. But I know in my case, if I did something to make my kids better, I would feel good that they told me so -- though I know writings too can flower things over a bit. But that is OK on the Fathers Day. After all it is the day I am supposed to feel good as a father and a day that I have opportunity to make you feel good as my father.
Fathers are like all: there are some things we could have done better and perhaps some things we wish we had not even tried. I know that is true in my case, and I would imagine that is true for you. But this is not a day that we reflect on our mistakes; it is a day we reflect on our successes, and what I say here is not "flowering it over.".
I have always looked on you with respect and with pride. I held you in high esteem because you worked for the AAA (a Tennessee county agriculture office), though I can't remember quite that far back with specifics. I was proud that you worked for the state (that was getting a little closer), and I was proud of all the promotions you got. I was always glad to say, " My Dad did (this and that)." And I am proud of you today when you tell me about leading a prayer or having a Bible discussion or when you say you won or lost a Bingo game.
When you were gone from home so much, I was always anxious for you to get home. Roger and I would stand out near the road on Fridays looking for your car coming in. There were a couple of times you didn't make it, like when you were in a car wreck a couple of times and when we had the ice storm; and in those cases we were saddened, not knowing for sure of your safety, though Mom was always the cement that kept us in good spirits (I wonder to this day how she always hid her real feelings-- most of the time.)
I remember the pride that you seemed to have with my successes, too. At least I think I recognized it: like when I was commissioned an officer in the Navy, and when you told someone last year that I "was a writer for the Laredo Morning Times." There were other times, too, and they all contributed to my good thoughts of you on this your day.
There is so much that I could talk about, but more than anything I would give you a pat on the back for the encouragements to do good that you gave us, sometimes by word and sometimes just by support or example.
Nothing has changed in the way you are. You are still all those things and more. Even today, I look forward, as you turn 81 and I 60, to those talks, though short they may be, that we just "chew the fat," so to speak, when we might just talk about the weather or how well we slept the night before.
This know: I am proud of you. You did good, Dad. May God bless you on this your Fathers Day.
Chuck Owen
Laredo, Texas
June 17, 2000
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